The Grepper

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious line of undocumented code-
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a whirling,
As of someone gently stirring, stirring at the disk-drive door,
" 'Tis the backup", I muttered, "tapping at my disk-drive door-
The backup, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was the bright December,
But not a ray of sun light made it to my office floor,
Through GIFs most revealing, of womyn most appealing,
I sought surcease of sorrow for my lost Leonore,
The EOO took down my poster of WAUGH_GO_FOR_IT-Leonore,
Seen here for nevermore.

And the sad metallic grinding of each disk whining
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to the still beating of my heart, I stood repeating
" `Tis the root process making sounds at the disk-drive door-
The backup process copying the hard-drive's esential core..
This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger, and hesitating no longer
"Sir", said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
The games I was just deleting, the pictures are gone completely
So quickly did you come to me, knocking at my office door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you", here I opened wide the door.
Darkness was there, and nothing more.

In a fury I grabbed a keyboard, a "top" I indeed swore,
and there was a stately Grepper, of the ancient days of yore,
perched at the head of the process list, and that was all.
Not the least obeissance made he, not a "please" or "thankyou",
Perched on the process list, and just grepped as if it it knew,
Grepped and searched, and did nothing more.

Then the Grepper beguiled my sad fancy into smiling,
By the serious and righteous countenance it wore,
and though its presence held little meaning-little relevancy bore,
I spoke "Tell me grim and ancient Grepper from the Nightly shore,
what is the purpose for this curse, this pain upon us?"
Quoth the Grepper "Audit-more".

"Greper!" said I, "thing of evil, auditor or programmer!
Whether ITC sent, or foul fortune delivered us here,
Desolate in SOE compatability, in standards complicated,
of OSI layers like a Gordon's knot, of managers placated
Is there hope for News unrestricted, tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Grepper "Audit-more".

"And tell this soul, laden with sorrow", I shrieked,
"From grepping somewhere in the giga-bytes of core
Is there a sainted maiden, whom we all adore,
whose name the angels call HEY_HEY_HEY_SNIGGER-Leonore,
A picture worth a thousand words, a thousand GIFs"
Quoth the Grepper "Audit -More".

And the Grepper, like a virus, still is grepping, still is sitting
on my process list, perched in the only Sun on my floor,
And bureaucracy unending, like a demon that is dreaming,
Flows like a wave across all the labs,
And from the shadow of the beancounting, our spirits
will be audited -evermore!